


30 Day WoL Challenge: May 2020 Edition

by melpomeni_mandy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 30 day wol challenge, Angst, Challenges, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Feelings, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Gen Work, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Post-Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers, Romance, Spoilers, but you don't care you write the fluff anyway so there, dragged over from tumblr, tfw you make your relationship official right before ShB and it's like 'this is fine.jpg', when the author does some random writing prompts and has fun!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 9,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melpomeni_mandy/pseuds/melpomeni_mandy
Summary: This is another collection of word prompts started on Tumblr for the month of May, 2020. I randomly decided to attempt this writing challenge, which was WoL-centric in nature, and had a lot of fun with it! Credit goes to gatheredfates on Tumblr for creating these words prompts, thank you so much!
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)/Original Character(s), Warrior of Light/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Kudos: 1





	1. Omen

Maliah never claimed to be of the superstitious sort. A believer as true as any who walked the path of Rhalgr she took stock in her faith before any fancies for luck or ill fortune. But this was a sign of a different sort: her life, as well as her husband’s, was about to become a lot more complicated.

She looked out beyond the threshold of their home and watched the fading light of sunset, her hand absently moving to her belly. She would have to tell him soon. She would have been smarter too, over her fate and the new one now within her. But the years passed fruitlessly, and complacency settled in until, suddenly, a new root had taken hold. 

Shock turned to sobs which in turn became relief. Now, as she witnessed the sun fall below in the horizon, turning day into twilight, a growing anticipation swelled up and into her heart. A familiar shape took form down along the wide stone pathway, and she began to run.


	2. Unspoken

She could sense it the first time he touched her hair since it had changed. Trepidation, caution. It made the desire to keep her secrets all the more to herself; nothing good would come from speaking them aloud, she believed. 

Ahlis bit her lip gently, then released it. That was foolish, though. Could she also not feel the tenderness in the way his fingers moved? It pained her in the same breath her own stubbornness kept her words at bay. 

It wasn’t fair, what happened. All of it. Her throat tightened and she knew if she dared to think long enough of it the tears would return. Ahlis turned, her own hand slowly reaching for him as it brushed along the softness of the bed.

For now, this would do.


	3. Break

Ahlis relished how the hot water hit her feet, up her legs and all across her as she finally immersed herself into the bath. It helped her focus before giving release in the form of a pleased sigh. There was much to enjoy here, to pull her mind away from the aches, the worries, and various bits of humdrum that came to her everyday life.

Even the Warrior of Light deserved a break every now and again. Especially within the home of her beloved.

She didn’t wish to recall the manner in which she decided to return to the manor, as she had also decided beforehand that she’d not distract herself from the very real and pressing matter of her Scion comrades; not to mention the latest developments upon the First, the Crystarium now in a frenzy, the starshower–

_You’re doing it again. Stop. Not now._

Ahlis cupped a heaping handful of suds from the water and caressed her arm, fragrant and soothing. It smelled sweet, like the rind of a citrus fruit; not at all like her favored rose water. Yet this was well and good, as it was even more comforting despite that: this was his washroom after all, and she was given full permission to partake.

It was an intimate gesture, one of trust…of familiarity. It was enough to make her insides flutter with something she hadn’t felt in an impossibly long time. It made it want to laugh and to throw something because it was so ridiculous all at once. The same hand that brushed along her arm traced fingers up to her shoulder and across her collar bone down to her chest. 

It was silly, but truly, simply, _finally_ , she did not care.


	4. Whimsy

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Her arms had laced themselves around his shoulders and Aymeric found himself momentarily at a loss; an all-too common situation in his dealings with the Warrior of Light. Yet this was no ordinary circumstance, as she had shared his bed the night prior and disagreed with any dispersing from the warm confines of the covers. Unless, of course, it was to stop and reel him back into their depths.

What a fanciful thought, that. To think her displeased with him in the most unlikeliest of ways. Yet much had changed between them those past few moons, now that the dread of the war miraculously began to thaw and, her heart with it. Aymeric’s lips turned into a soft curl of a smile as his face.

“Am I not allowed to leave my own bed?”

“Hmm,” Ahlis pressed her face against the bare skin of his shoulder, kissed him, then rested her chin there. “You may…but why? I’m here, you know…s’not an every day occurrence.”

“Indeed, that it is not. Yet the day will begin without us if we remain.” 

Ahlis smiled and canted her face to the side as she watched him. His hair was a lovely curled mess, and his morning countenance was lovely as well that day. He ought to have gotten a good night’s rest after all; it was her turn for her lips to turn into an impish, sly sort of approval. 

“Let it.”


	5. Sacrifice

_I should be working._

Her eyes glanced about the open room, window to the far side wall with half-drawn curtains. It was quiet, not even noise down the street down below managed to creep up and into the softness of her little nest of pillows and quilts. The wind, typical of a La Noscean summer, had also died down that day as it grew later and later, a brief respite for a nap had turned into an entire getaway from the research papers to read and number crunching of past exams. 

It was fine, she reasoned. Nothing was due immediately, she assured herself. Ahlis snuggled further into her bed, arms and legs curling even more as the lull of more rest pulled her away again.

That afternoon was a worthy sacrifice for more sleep.


	6. Shatter

Everything ached. The frigid cold of the air and the swirling ice-aspected aether swarmed around her, her eyes swearing she could see a growing rime beginning to coat her armor, and her staff. 

Shiva– _no_ –Ryne floated above her with arms outstretched and Ahlis gritted her teeth knowing, and yet not quite, what to expect out of the oracle gone awry in her power. 

It was useless to try and talk reason into the girl. Only battle would do; her eyes began to sting all over again. She remembered how this happened, it _always_ happened this way, and the rage of it all swelled inside her, pushing forward into a sprint as she summoned forth her own magic.

_“Resplendent ice, grant me strength!”_

The aether shifted, coalescing upon the floor and suddenly Ahlis found herself on pure ice. Her footing slipped and she fell hard against the ground, sliding without direction.

_“Shatter!”_

There was only a moment to see the blades of Ryne’s attack follow through across the arena, a mere breath’s width from colliding into Ahlis’s body and into certain death from falling over the edge. The ice dissipated, and she wasn’t sure how she survived it…but it mustn’t have been just luck.

_Ryne…if we make it out of this, I swear…_

Rising up, in pain and freezing down to the bone, Ahlis began her charge all over again, aether weaving into a spell of her own.


	7. Tomorrow

Aymeric awoke that morning, early, and alone save for a folded note left for him upon a bedside table. The letter appeared written in a hurried, slanted hand. Numerous crossed out mistakes dot the letter.

_Please forgive me for doing this, but I decided to head off earlier than planned. I know I promised I would stay at least through the morrow ~~but you know how it is~~ you know how I can be. It is hard to remain in one place for very long these days. _

_And if you’re still cross, especially because I left while you were sleeping, know that you have proof of my guilt and are free to use it as such the next time I am difficult with you in turn: the Twelve know I am not an easy woman to contend with._

_At the very least you also know that I love you, and I am sorry, truly._

_~~you were just too sweet to wake up~~ _

_Ahlis_


	8. Confrontation

“The problem isn’t about what position you’re taking in the guard, or what damned shifts you take, it’s why you’re doing it.”

Ahlis stood in the center of their small kitchen and did not budge. She had been doing so for the past quarter bell as Precious scolded her the moment she had come home for the evening. Posture firm and upright, just as she knew and practiced when on the job, as she knew Precious preferred such behavior in and out of their home. Captain Spinel may no longer be on the clock for the Blades, but that meant little. 

“What does it matter what I do on my off-time?” Ahlis finally spoke and knew immediately it had been too soon. Precious turned immediately to stare her down, a good one and a half fulm taller than herself.

“This isn’t about your off-time girl, it’s about all of your time godsdamn it. Did you forget what I told you about fraternizing with the men? Or are you choosing to be so dimwitted?”

“I–”

“I am not finished! You are to speak when I ask for your opinion! Not before!”

The heat from Precious’ breath beat against Ahlis’s entire face as she listened to another berating sound-off for her behavior. How she knew which shifts she had been assigned to, how she had become too partial to certain members of her unit, that the Balsam were the most important of the Brass Blades and had no room for further corruption, not to mention debauchery.

This was about Krowe–fellow Blade and Ala Mhigan–it had to be, or why else would Precious be so irate. From the moment they became friends Precious had been displeased, downright suspicious even, and for all the supposed care Precious claimed to hold for her she was her superior officer first, guardian second. Yet it stung, and felt so absolutely _unfair_ that she be criticized when the others face little repercussion.

“If this continues, I will remove you from ever being a part of any units in the city, and you’ll be one of those Roses out in the east. You’d like that, aye?”

Ahlis’s face began to burn, with anger and embarrassment, as Precious regarded her hard for another half minute. They both knew of the rumors, a needle right into the heart if Ahlis dared to continue disobeying. She shook her head, wordless, and Precious appeared to find her reaction satisfactory.

“Go clean up,” Precious turned and started to walk to the bedroom. “We won’t have this talk again.”


	9. Infinity

One of the first tools she bought for herself upon entering the arcanist’s guild was a compass. A favored tool of the trade when beginning to learn to trace the intricacies of arcanima’s arrays and stratagems Ahlis had gotten her’s gil’s worth out of the thing many times over.

Now, as she rummaged through her dusty footlocker, she could not find where the hell it had fallen off to. 

“How careless…” She mumbled under her breath.

Footsteps approached from behind her and she leaned back up from where she knelt upon the floor, her eyes looking back to Aymeric as he stopped at her side.

“Will you be needing another?” 

“Not immediately, no,” Ahlis rose up to her full height and lifted her shoulders in a brief shrug. “I must have misplaced it between here and the Stones. Or, it could still be in some lab drawer all the way back in Limsa, for all I know.”

That would be amusing, truth be told; she hoped a new student had somehow found it were that the case. Such a thought made her feel almost nostalgic, her thoughts wandering to the memory of the endless practicing, redoing and seemingly infinite variations to memorize.

“I can find another for you, if you wish,” Aymeric offered, the calm tone of his voice pulling her back into the moment. 

Ahlis smiled, her lips pursing in interest at the thought as a sort of familiar softness fluttered in her chest.

“I would like that,” she replied as she raised her finger touch upon his chest. 

Over his heart, Ahlis traced along the fabric of his shirt in circular, familiar motion. 


	10. Sacred

Her first request upon reaching an agreement to some level of residency at the Borel Manor was a study of her own. Or, more accurately, a work room of sorts. It would have the typical accoutrements of an arcanist’s office: a drafting desk for designing and researching purposes, storage for various minerals, gemstones as well as materials for crafting whichever inks, and other miscellany she may desire. Bookshelves to house what ever literature, scrolls and the like that she deemed fit for her passions into arcanima…among other such aether-related things.

Ahlis wanted to be modest for such a project, as it was not _quite_ her permanent residence, yet Aymeric brushed such considerations aside. His heart welcomed her entirely, it only made sense for his home to follow suit. Even if it still took the occasional soft affirmation on his part to remind Ahlis of such. 

Such modesty did not last, much to both of their slight amusement, for as the project continued so too did Ahlis’s ideas begin to grow. She watched each piece of furniture, equipment and shelf began to fill the small unused and dusty room like a piece of a puzzle finally coming together, a old wish brought all the way from Limsa Lominsa had taken shape on the other side of the continent: here, in Ishgard of all places. Ahlis may not have had such a thing as a personal office back at the guild, but this would absolutely do.

She was organizing the first set of pigment samples that had arrived when Aymeric, finally free from the most pressing matters at the Congregation, came to visit and note the progress she had made. He was quite tired, as was his usual condition those days, and all he craved a new pot of tea, a change of clothing, and to take some small measure of rest before attempting what he knew was more paper and correspondences waiting for him.

_Not yet_ , he swore to himself as he crossed the threshold, heart growing more at ease with each step until he was just behind her, arms finding themselves wrapped around her waist as he pulled her to him, face pressed sublimely upon her hair. The squeak of surprise that came from Ahlis’s mouth was enough to make him laugh quietly into her soft curls.

“Aymeric…”

“My darling.”

Ahlis sighed, her attention utterly lost for what she had been doing moments prior. Yet she allowed his touch, this embrace they now rested in, with her own hands discarding her work to hold onto him in return. She could feel his breathing against her skin, how it lightly tickled her, the proximity of his entire self against her back, how his hands and fingers pressed into the fabric of her robe. They were entirely alone too; the opportunity to be disturbed was quite low, unlikely even…

“Ahem!” Ahlis broke the quiet air between them and spun around to face Aymeric. 

The sudden change in demeanor made him blink back his surprised confusion. He opened to mouth to say something but she stopped him with a quick tap on the nose.

“That was for startling me. I could have dropped something!” Ahlis squinted her eyes at him as if to make her point, but as quickly as she appeared agitated a small smile formed on her lips. “Next time you want my attention…you should ask.”

“Ah…of course.” Aymeric returned with a more thoughtful smile of his own. “I apologize.”

“Yes, yes, I know. I’m just giving you a hard time, ha.” Ahlis gave him a quick wink before gently pushing him back a little ways to create a space between them. “This is my space now, and it is a special place…a sacred space for my work, see?”

Aymeric blinked; he wasn’t entirely sure by what she meant. Ahlis sighed in turned and placed her hands upon her hips.

“It means no handsy business in here, you understand?”

“I…beg pardon?” Now Aymeric was truly surprised. Did she think…?

“Don’t make me say it, now shoo! I’m almost done here anyway…could go for a drink after all this organizing…”

Ahlis unceremoniously turned back to her pigments while Aymeric, now trying not to flush at the thought of what she had just implied, decided to find something was decidedly not tea.


	11. Pillow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to emmerwrites/aethernoise on tumblr as Alyx belongs to her and was written with permission!

It had started over nothing. They had been winding down for the evening, everyday clothing discarded for the comforts of cotton and silk. Something had been said: a joke, a comment, something that had needled the other when it hadn’t meant to. 

Truth be told Ahlis couldn’t remember, long after the first pillow–her own–had been tossed in Alyx’s direction and everything degenerated into an honest-to-gods pillow fight. Miraculously none of them had burst from their roughhousing, even when they had tackled each other upon the bed, swatting and yelling and laughing.

“I have you now,” Ahlis lightly panted as she poised herself above where Alyx lay, their exertions spent and becoming weak, half-hearted tosses. Alyx didn’t protest, yet the grin that shown upon her face was flushed, defiant, eyes glimmering.

It had been a boastful and too early call to victory, as almost as soon as Ahlis said it she found herself turned over and pinned with a very determined redhead above her. 

“You were saying?” Alyx peered down, amused and surrounded by a crown of fall hair that tickled Ahlis’s face.

“Hmph!” Ahlis firmly curled her legs into a clutch around Alyx, unmoving. “I still win.”

Alyx leaned in, brushing their noses together. 

“We both do.”


	12. Keep

Her fingers touched the familiar pendant that hung from his neck. She did not expect this from him, to wear one of her most treasured possessions. She imagined he would keep it tucked away as a kind of memento, something to think upon in privacy, a sort of comforting thing that rested heavy and warm in one’s hand. The mark of Rhalgr upon its golden surface, inlaid by tiny faceted crystal, gently caught the light in the dimly lit room.

Ahlis didn’t know what to say at such a realization, only when Aymeric reached for her hand did she try to look upon his face, suddenly unable to hide her curiosity.

“I left this in good hands,” she spoke quietly, a soft smile of affection appearing on her face. “Did it bring you luck?”

It was Aymeric’s turn to smile, and like a charm the fluttering of blissful nerves turned within her chest. 

“It did. You have returned to me, and I cannot ask for anything more.”

“Oh, you.” Ahlis huffed at him, unable to contain herself. It was both sweet and unbearable all at once. 

Unfazed Aymeric cupped her chin and kissed her, and Ahlis laughed.


	13. Healing

It was quiet in the reading room where Ahlis had taken her place by the window, her legs covered with a blanket with half a dozen cushions sequestered along with it. It was one of her favorite place within Borel Manor: to read, to think as she watched the sky, to doze into a light nap as well.

It was on one of these occasions that Aymeric, having decided to take day to work from his residence, that he brought her tea to help keep warm by the thick, cool glass where she sat. The fireplace, perpetually lit now that she had come home again, glowed with a hearty warmth that lit the entire room in a soft, welcoming atmosphere. He understood entirely why she would prefer such a place, surrounded by comfort.

The view that day was typical: cloud covered much of the sky except where patches thinned to a pale white. There was no snow at that moment, but knowing the current climes it would likely begin to flurry at any time.

“Thank you,” Ahlis said gratefully, taking the tea and accompanying saucer in her hands, her current book opened and resting now in her lap. 

Their fingers touched briefly, and the cold he felt from them dared to make Aymeric think twice. Was it wise for her to sit as such? It wouldn’t do were she to catch a cold! Perhaps another blanket was in order? Or, even better, a coat of his own to cushion her against the chill. 

“Are you not cold?”

Ahlis had taken a sip of the hot tea and smiled, soothed by the taste of such a hot beverage. 

“It’s not too terrible. The tea helps considerably,” she replied, seemingly comfortable as she was in her reading nook. “Although…I wouldn’t say no to another throw. If you don’t mind?”

“Of course.” 

With a smile he placed a kiss upon her hair before departing, stopping before crossing through the doorway. Aymeric watched as she returned to her book, tea in hand, the sight through the window behind her. Seeing her in such a way made him wistful, a reminder of his own disbelief that would sometimes come to him; Ahlis was in good spirits, and home. That was enough to give him relief, and to hope that now, _finally_ , some much needing healing would soothe the both of them.


	14. Gods

That evening wasn’t the first time she had visited the epitaph. It was tucked away into its own corner of the Lochs right where the mountains dropped off sharply; many such places had such views, likely chosen because of it.

But to ponder the question on what made good ground for a place to remember the dead was not Ahlis’s reasoning for being there: it was for her mother. 

It felt as if there were too many excuses to name why she had been so poor in attending to her mother’s own remembrance. Perhaps what had to be done was to list all the reasons why she had become so complacent, as if in some sort of litany of repentance to her ancestors, and she likely would have…had she been a better, more observant follower. 

The rites for the dead for an Ala Mhigan extended long after burial, as it was customary to recall the dead as they were in life: in story, in song, in prayer. So that no matter where or how they died they would not be forgotten, and that where her guilt lay: Ahlis dared to _forget_.

Out there however, as she stood before the large stone monument, she could allow herself to be weak in her guilt where only the gods would find her. In silence she admitted her failings, her shortcomings as her mother’s only daughter, the last to carry what little remained left of their family and even littler still of what she still remembered of them. 

Yet there was only silence as she finished what ever kind of prayers she could muster from within her. Only the soft breeze scented with earth and salt, and the burning stars above, unchanging. 


	15. Wonderful

Everything about him infuriated her. Once the tenuous beginnings of their working relationship with the lord commander softened to a more approachable manner Ahlis had done everything in her willpower to stave off any inkling of trust for the man. It would be better to stomp out those feelings sooner than later, once they had taken root; the mixture of stubbornness and ire at her current lot despite what little good fortune had come the Scions’ way stoked her need to refute any seemingly genuine effort on Ser Aymeric’s part for friendship.

Not that he paid _that_ much more attention to her; after all he was a busy man, commander and politician both. And there was an entire war against Nidhogg’s brood, of course, lest she forget. So to honor her promise to her fellow Scions, and Alphinaud especially, she would carry on. While they did not intend to become embroiled in city matters fate, apparently, had another say in the matter. And that meant becoming familiar with the workings of the Holy See, from the Brume to the top of the Pillars all the while not ending back into another idiotic situation involving trial by combat.

Which made her entire endeavor to learn all she could about the lord commander seem a little daft. She wasn’t naive: Ul’dah taught her well what happened when one dug too deeply, especially those with considerable influence, as well as when one remained ignorant. It would be a balancing act, one she did not care to play again. But there she was, ears and eyes open to what ever way the gossip and rumor mills such a city generated. Tataru had become invaluable in this respect, having set herself up at the Forgotten Knight as a tactic to keep her finger on the pulse of every day life and to the regular comings and goings of it’s citizens, especially of the more downtrodden sort.

That evening the two of them had come together and taken a seat at one of the numerous tables at Ahlis’s own insistence. Tataru, full of intel for the day and becoming fuller with a plate of the usual fare in front of her, waiting to finish her latest gulp of ale from her cup before speaking.

“So, come to hear the latest have you?”

“Not quite,” Ahlis replied, keeping her voice low, “what have you learned about the lord commander? Anything?”

Tataru’s expression became curious immediately, then settled into a more pensive state. 

“Nothing…out of the ordinary has come my way. Why? You think there’s reason to be suspicious?”

“No–well…isn’t that in itself a bit suspicious?”

Tataru couldn’t help but smile a little, shrugging.

“It could be. You think every Ishgardian has a trove of secrets don’t you?”

“Hmph, any Ishgardian that matters, aye.”

Ahlis mindlessly tapped the surface of the table with her finger. She should have figured; while she hoped that tavern which sat directly across the congregation would have _something_ to say on the matters of Ser Aymeric that would have been too simple, too easy.

“He’s rather popular, you know. Much of what I have heard are the grumblings of men over the highborn ladies and their compliments of him.”

Ahlis looked back to Tataru, unperturbed.

“Of course that’s how it is. He’s got the charisma and the looks. I bet they all think he’s bloody wonderful.”

“Ser Aymeric is a friend Ahlis, a-at the very least an ally!” Tataru insisted, a mix of confusion and concern upon her face. “He was one of the few who tried to intervene when Alphinaud and I…”

Ahlis closed her eyes, a sigh leaving her nose. Tataru spoke the truth, and seeing such distrust had inadvertently caused distress. None of this was or felt easy.

“You’re right. I just…it’ll take more than that, for me. It doesn’t hurt to be careful.”

Tataru nodded and Ahlis left it at that, their conversation moving onto other things not involving a certain lord commander.


	16. Hello

His pen dashed across the parchment with a practice grace and speed. Between the usual daily documents, reports and correspondences Aymeric’s hand danced with a finesse that only came after endless hours, nay years, of practice and demand. He paused briefly on his current work–a response to a new report from Camp Dragonhead–to take a moment for his tea. The second it touched his lips he was met with disappointment: it was cold, which unfortunately did not surprise him. Normally he could finish his tea while it remained hot on a _good_ day, yet today he was unable to keep apace of his current pot upon his desk.

He would have to retrieve a fresh one then; good. It was as good an excuse as any to stretch one’s legs, Aymeric surmised, yet before he moved to stand he stopped. Unless his ears deceived him somebody was approaching, and quickly judging by the footfalls just beyond the threshold of his office. He steadied himself for what was to come.

Both doors swung open and there she was. The Warrior of Light, entirely unexpected and unannounced, crossed the length of his room towards his desk. Aymeric could do nothing but smile in earnest at Ahlis’s arrival; if there was any apprehension before it quickly dissipated, although he could not deny the curiosity he felt as receiving no word on arrival. 

There was little time to question it really, as her pace did not relent at all upon reaching his desk. Aymeric hadn’t even finished his greeting to her and any attempt to do so was silenced the moment she pressed herself to him, hands cupping his face as she kissed him. 

When she eventually released him Ahlis took it upon herself to drape her body upon his lap, arms finding a gentle, firm hold upon him ‘round his neck with an expression of being utterly pleased with herself.

“Hello.” 

Aymeric sighed, a little flustered, relieved, and unable to find any reason to protest. Hello, indeed.


	17. Gentle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is also dedicated to emmerwrite/aethernoise as Alyx is her creation and was written with permission!

“Let me know if I’m pulling too much.”

“Don’t worry, you will.”

There was some amusement in Ahlis’s voice, and while Alyx appreciated the confidence given in allowing her to touch Ahlis’s hair…she would _also_ appreciate not screwing anything up.

The apprehension may have been a bit silly; it wasn’t as if Alyx had no experience with a longer head of a hair, yet this opportunity didn’t present itself very often, if at all. Ahlis treated her tresses with such a careful hand, Alyx had difficulty figuring out anything else she treated with the same level of pampering and gentleness. But what could go wrong with using her own hands? The laborious part of using a comb was already over and done with, a task Ahlis had seen to herself, but the ‘honor’ of dressing and styling it had been given to Alyx instead. And it had to be _good:_ the pair were planning on spending an evening together out on the town where plenty of drink, food and dancing would be in their future. Ahlis wouldn’t take a single step outside if her hair did not look the part.

Alyx began to separate some lengths of hair into parts. Braids and twists were easy enough, not to mention pretty when done correctly. They could be pulled tight, or made to look messy, or decorated…the possibilities were vast. 

“How many braids do you think I should have?”

Alyx couldn’t help but smile at her perception; she could tell and feel how her hair was being handled despite giving Alyx free reign to decide. _‘It will be fun’_ , Ahlis offered, permission given willingly.

“Not sure yet. At least a couple,” Alyx replied, still undecided.

Ahlis gave a neutral ‘hm’ at that, and fell quiet. She would find out soon enough, after all. Alyx wasn’t one to squander an opportunity, especially one that had a good chance of impressing her. A small smile touched her lips at the thought as her mind wandered to the night that lay ahead.


	18. Kiss

The hour was late when she finally retreated beneath the numerous layers of sheets and blankets for sleep. She was by herself that evening, although that did not stop Ahlis from her partaking of a certain lord’s personal chambers; not that she had to take much in the ways of permission any longer.

Unless, of course, you were this certain lord’s feline companion.

Ahlis almost didn’t feel the leap of the cat’s paws upon the bed, and when she turned to extinguish the last of the lamps– _aha!_ –there, in the soft light of the room a fluffed and long haired creature had taken to the top of the blankets. Ahlis froze, unsure of what exactly to do while observing the cautious feline make their way towards one side of the pillows, only to knead for a moment, then sit in a perfectly soft and loaf-like shape, staring quite intently upon her. _She_ was not the master of the home, and Ahlis could swear there was condemnation radiating from their eyes.

Or, maybe that was her imagination. Truth be told, Ahlis had little experience in taking care of small pets and much of what she knew of cat-kind were a storied mix of tales involving hilarity, to terror. Ahlis did not wish to believe much in the latter; Aymeric’s cat, while aloof, slippery and a bit of a mystery, did not seem as a poorly adjusted cat who despised people. If that were true, then they would not have joined her…right?

Ahlis smiled a little at the feline and gently pushed herself up so as to not disturb them too much. If she could not say goodnight to Aymeric, then this would do. No sooner did Ahlis lean toward to lightly peck the cat upon the top if their head with a kiss she was met with a paw straight to the face.


	19. Judgment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alyx belongs to emmerwrite/aethernoise on tumblr and was written with permission! Also, I love them.

“Well, what do you think?”

Alyx straightened herself up with her elbows from where she had been lounging from the bed. It almost seemed to be a useless question to ask; the dress shirt was hers and Ahlis just so happened to decide on taking dibs on her wardrobe. Again.

“One of these days I’m taking you shopping.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” she turned about fully, away from the far-too small mirror on the nearby vanity so that she faced Alyx directly, hands on her hips.

“You look lovely, radiant, marvelous,” Alyx couldn’t help but smirk as she watched Ahlis roll her eyes. She may not have seemed grateful for the showering of compliments, then again Alyx was being a touch cheeky. “It’s mine, of course you look good in it.”

“Yes, well…” Ahlis looked down at herself, her hands now adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. “I appreciate your honesty most of all, even if I am just wearing your things.”

“You know what would be better?” Alyx replied after a moment.

“Mm?”

“For you to not wear my things–”

“Alyx!”

“–and we stay inside–hey!”

Ahlis huffed, stomping over to the bed and snatching a pillow, pelting Alyx thoroughly with it.


	20. Laugh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another of emmerwrites' characters, this time of Rhodry! He's having the time of his life...sort of.

She knew she shouldn’t have laughed when it happened. Her desire for amusement had been careless; was the prank truly worth it, considering much of her regard of him bounced between coquettish aloofness to teasing?

It wasn’t the way he looked at her that made her feel regret, rather it was his lack of doing so altogether: Rhodry had only so much patience, and Ahlis had a knack for running it ragged.

“Hey,” Ahlis followed after him, not truly convinced that she ought to speak to him at all at the moment. It could even make things worse and, judging by his disregard for anything she was trying to say, well…

The path they were following was steep to one side, with plenty of greenery and outcrops of stone. Typical scenery of the central Shroud, but not so typical for Ahlis as she was not as seasoned a visitor to the wood. It’s likely what attributed to her poor sense of footing as she dashed to keep up with the longer legged fellow, only to slip and careen over the side of the road, rolling head over feet and smack dab into a cold, running stream.

Rhodry heard the fall long before the sound of her coughing and splashing down below in the water. He also lingered to watch Ahlis a bit longer than necessary up above on the ridge before eventually making his way down to squat and observe from the edge of the water.

“I know what you’re thinking, go ahead and laugh already.” Ahlis huffed from where she sat in the stream, fighting to keep her teeth from chattering in her jaw. Thankfully the current was not strong enough to keep her from standing, which she attempted to do upon slightly wobbling feet.

“No need. I got plenty from watching you fall down here.”

She wanted to groan and splash water at him in retaliation, but all that came from Ahlis was a sigh and another huff, feeling twice as heavy now that all her clothes were waterlogged.

“That’s fair, I guess.”


	21. Memory

When everything had been said and done, with Cid, Mikoto and the others retreating back to their work Ahlis had taken to a secluded spot along the calm waters of Gangos, beyond the camp grounds to watch the sky shift from a soft blue to the pallet of twilight.

She had hoped the sight and sounds of the sea hitting the rocks would soothe her mind and her heart of what had transpired between the three of them, yet she could not let what she had seen leave her thoughts. The ability to see memories in such a form, to be reconstructed in fantastical manners and to be manipulated all in real-time…she did not envy Cid in the least. And yet, he had permitted it all. The man had pushed himself farther than he desired, assuredly, but he had done so all the same for the sake of understanding, for the sake of research, for the sake of trust.

Ahlis never doubted in Cid’s resolve; he was a good man, and certainly one of the very few Garleans worth a damn. But to see him struggle, to witness his trauma from the past; it was a kind of gift, albeit a heavy one. 

The sky had taken a deep shade of purple by the time she finally left her perch by the water, the stars beginning to shine in the early evening. Her heart was no less heavy; what had transpired weighed as it should, now she had mustered the resolve to see the rest of it through.


	22. Salvation

e watched her sleep in the warm light of the evening fire that slowly waned as the hours passed, cocooned in blankets and cushioned by the pillows she favored. It was too early for him to rest, as he felt the need to work despite the hour growing late, yet here he was instead: utterly taken and beholden to the woman within his bed.

Ahlis almost never gave word of her impending arrivals. He knew she had the means of contacting him, if she desired it, and yet if any soul asked Aymeric that day if he expected the savior of Ishgard to suddenly appear within the city and take refuge within his home he wouldn’t have any knowledge of it. So he was left to ponder at times as to why she kept such secrecy on her whereabouts, even now with so many good and hopeful things happening for their people. 

The Warrior of Light was respected by most and beloved by those who knew her, but that in itself was perhaps the answer: with notoriety sometimes came infamy. Ahlis, in all likelihood, simply wanted to be left _alone_. Especially now, as her fame grew and her legacy stretched even beyond Eorzea, Aymeric could not deny that the burdens that came with such titles ought to be heavy indeed. No wonder the savior needed her own salvation, a sanctuary all of her own.

Aymeric took a gentle hand to her hair and touched her crown, careful and feather-light with his fingertips. If it was safety and shelter from the outside world that Ahlis desired, if only for a little while, then she would have it.


	23. Loyalty

It had been some time since she made that familiar trek up the long hill to the overlook where the headstone was located. In truth he did not rest there in the earth, that he had been interred in the family crypt as any noble son of Ishgard ought to be, and while that may be all well and good for tradition Ahlis far preferred this one over visiting a tomb.

For one the view was far better–his favorite, so she learned–and she could see why. On a clear day one could behold the city in all its glory, its spires rising high into the firmament, like bright steel against a cool blue sky. Ahlis always tried to make her visits coincide when she happened to be moving through Coerthas, and if the weather was good she would make the journey on her own.

Ahlis reached the crest of the hill and slowed her approach, stopping just before the headstone. Her hand brushed the layer of snow away from atop of it, despite feeling the futility of doing so. 

Sometimes she would speak of the days since her last visit, as in life he was man very much invested in her travails. Other times she would share her feelings to the gravestone instead, as she knew he cared about her well-being most of all. But today, on that clear brisk morning as the sun rose over the city, Ahlis spoke of nothing and simply stood there in silence. 

That, too, was something he had come to understand: despite her difficulties, her aloofness, her distrust. And he would welcome her all the same, insist that she retreat to the fire and partake of its warmth. Without him she doubted she ever would have opened herself to his people or to the city’s plights, regardless of the machinations that circled about her in those days.

In her heart, everything began with him, and it was with regret that he could not see all of what came after.

The wind shifted, and the telltale signs of clouds rolling in from the mountains was all the cue Ahlis needed to begin her farewells.

_Until next time, Haurchefant_. She tapped the top of the headstone once, before turning away to begin the walk back.


	24. Drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Rhodry and Ahlis have a drink...it doesn't go down as well as it should either. (Rhodry belongs to emmerwrites/aethernoise and not me!)

She left the bar with two cups in hand and walked back to their table by one of the windows. There was plenty of soft, comforting lighting as the day waned, but the encroaching clouds gave warning of the rain that would inevitably come. Ahlis set one of the cups in front of Rhodry who turned his eyes from the outside view.

“What is this?” He asked; he hadn’t requested a drink when they arrived.

“A peace offering,” Ahlis offered as she took her own seat across from him. She wanted to chuckle at the look he gave his cup, as if dubious of its contents. “Don’t worry, it won’t knock you off your feet. It’s a Druthers house special.”

A grog of some kind, then. Watered down, but still having a decent taste of alcohol. Rhodry further contemplated the drink but said nothing for the moment.

“I’ve, been a bit of an arse,” Ahlis began, her eyes taking in the scene of the establishment and the other patrons; this made easing into what she wanted to say more palatable. She didn’t often feel the need to be apologizing much, after all. “And not just for today…I’ve been like this before, too. Other instances which I won’t rattle off but…I’m sorry.”

Rhodry brought the cup to his lips to take his first drink, saying nothing for the moment. Ahlis had hoped for a more immediately reply but, trying not to feel sullen about her attempt, she took a sip of her own only to make a sour face.

“Piss and blood, this is what passes for a drink ‘round here?” Ahlis looked to Rhodry in turn to see what he felt about the alcohol, suddenly feeling even worse. Not only was her apology lacking so were the drinks.

“It’s fine.” Rhodry set his cup down, seemingly unperturbed by it. Now it was Ahlis’s turn to look dubious about the grog.

“Are you serious? Are your taste buds half-dead?” Ahlis asked, incredulous.

Rhodry shrugged, yet there seemed to be a twinkle of impishness in his eyes.

“About that apology…”

“Ah, right. Sorry, too, for that comment,” Ahlis cleared her throat, part sheepish and part to try and clear the taste of the poor alcohol from her mouth.


	25. Home

The manor felt like a cavern, maze-like to her unfamiliar eyes and feet. Surely it was the largest residence she had the fortune of being welcome to–besides House Fortemps, of course–yet despite this fact it was considered by noble Ishgardian standards to be somewhat meager. Ahlis knew rather little of the de Borel family, their history, and of the home that held a small handful of staff and little else besides. 

So, being a woman of curiosity, she took full advantage of her newly acquired free reign of the manor to explore. Within reason, of course; it always felt a bit of a prickle in her stomach to think she was snooping or being far too nosy for her own good in unfamiliar personal spaces. But such hesitations weren’t crippling enough to stop her as Ahlis took her time to traverse hallways, to peer into long-unused guest rooms, to learn just how many connecting rooms there were in all; she entertained the idea of secret doors between them although found none despite her explorations. One of the most interesting discoveries was, admittedly, outside: a small interior courtyard on the second floor that looked to have been, at some point, a kind of garden. There was not much to see from the interior side of the long-paneled windows but briefly Ahlis imagined the flowers it might’ve bore, when the weather was more permitting.

When she returned to the first floor she passed the door that turned out to be the way into the wine cellar; Ahlis made a special note of that and how Aymeric would have to personally show her the rest later. The kitchen was well stocked and well kept, nigh immaculate in fact; yet it lacked a kind of bustling energy she had come to associate with such areas of a home: it was clear that it was not used extensively.

At the end of it all, having sated her eagerness for the time being, she sat with a fresh pot of tea within the main parlor and waited. That was rather silly, however, as she knew the likelihood of him returning that evening was never really a certainty. But she could not help herself with the idea of it all and the warmth it made flow through her chest: to ease into the end of the day and to hear the return of the one you missed seeing from the moment they departed. 

It was a small, ordinary thing, and one she hadn’t known much in all her life. Ahlis turned her eyes towards the direction of the front entrance of Borel Manor, and imagined how it would be, to say ‘welcome home’. 


	26. Chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahlis invades Rothe's kitchen, threatening the holiday of Valentione's Day everywhere in Limsa Lominsa! Okay, maybe not really...but please leave the man alone, he has to temper chocolate. (Rothe is not my character as he belongs to Jil/kukurubean on tumblr, written with permission!)

he spatula came down on her hand with a thorough _thap!_ that made her recoil from the mixing bowl, Ahlis’s lips puckering into a defensive pout.

“Did you even wash your hands?” Rothe, the spatula-wielder, took the bowl into both of his hands and away from her reach. 

“Hmph! ‘Course I did…”

“This is what I get for letting you help me, sticky fingers,” Rothe sighed, setting the rapidly cooling chocolate down as he briskly went about selecting molds. 

“I like those ones,” Ahlis offered, smiling with an impish look. 

“Really? You do remember this is for Valentione’s Day, right?” Rothe was not convinced, considering she picked out the mold with a pumpkin shape.

“It’d be different, nobody would expect it.” 

“And nobody would buy them either,” Rothe retorted, beginning to pour into a few more typical, and heart-shaped, molds. 


	27. Farewells

It was best not to think about it, even if was futile not to. Yet she tried, whenever she took a look at Ryne, considering.

Ahlis knew Thancred hid it, as was his usual manner, but he and the rest of them had grown protective of their young charge who had turned in a far more independent youth. Ryne had discarded much of her old hesitation when it came to taking a hold of her own life beyond the despair of her past. Knowing this made the inevitable fact that, soon, she would have to spread her wings on her own. 

Ever since that day in Amh Araeng. That decisive moment…

“Hey.”

Ahlis snapped back to the present and blinked to see Ryne staring curiously at her.

“Are you all right?” Ryne’s expression wasn’t overly worried, but she knew it wasn’t like Ahlis to retreat into her thoughts like she did. Not without reason, any way.

“Yes. Just…remembering, I suppose.”

Gaia, who sat right next to Ryne at their table, didn’t seem to care much at the moment on what or who Ahlis could’ve meant by that, only about the plate of biscuits between them all.

“Well if you’re too busy daydreaming you wouldn’t care if we have the rest of these then.”

“Gaia, we’re meant to share those. Let Ahlis have at least one of them.”

Gaia was about to retort in turn, as was her usual manner over most everything, when she found herself cut short. Ahlis was laughing softly at them both.

“Go ahead, enjoy yourselves,” Ahlis assured them. That was enough incentive for Gaia to reach for another biscuit.

Ryne sighed but she smiled all the same, her attention focused back on their treats from the cafe. Ahlis watched the two girls, feeling bittersweet, the reality of farewells feeling just a little further away.


	28. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little call-back to a prompt I did during the FFXIVWrite of 2018, for the prompt 'Validation'.

It was a good omen, the thunder rolling over the mountains, rumbling into the lochs with a low, unpredictable beat that reached them where they remained covered and protected. 

At least that was what Ahlis told herself as she found herself awake in the night, Aymeric having faded into sleep some time ago. Many sounds and scents from the world beyond the tiny room trickled in: the smell of rain hitting dry earth and stone, the rustling of the cloth that acted as a curtain against the window deliberately left ajar. These mingled together with the comforts her quarters, urging her to nestle closer to him, to take what warmth she could from this brief moment they had, the reason she likely she could not close her eyes. 

It was not fair to have something so desired to end so quickly. A single night between the long expanses of time that pulled at them both, and when she believed there was so much _more_ to say? Ahlis clenched her fingers a little tighter upon her blanket as she looked to Aymeric lying near her. She dared not reach out, fearing it would wake him; he looked too peaceful to shatter what seemed to be a deep, restful sleep. Yet it was painful, to feel as close as they were and yet far, far away from one another. 

This was unlike her. This pain was of a different type of soreness, an ache of the heart that sunk to deep into her chest when it seemed not that long ago she had been brimming with relief. Ahlis recalled how they spoke of the days leading up to the siege that freed Ala Mhigo and its aftermath where she swore she had undone everything between them.

 _‘We have forgiven each other, have we not?’_ He had spoken to her earlier that evening, to reassure her for the here and now, and beyond it. To savor the time they had now in what little moments they could.

It would have to do. Somehow, it had to, even when she felt like cursing and hoping for just a little bit more all at once. Thunder rumbled again in the distance. It was a comfort, albeit a small one. A good omen.


	29. Letter

When Krile found her elbow-deep in what looked to be an old wooden chest she couldn’t help her curiosity in stepping closer to take a look for herself. Thankfully she hadn’t been too sneaky about it, as Ahlis briefly looked over her shoulder to acknowledge her before going back to her work.

“Might I ask what it is you’re looking for?” Krile asked while taking a gander into the chest, its large hinged mouth pulled back entirely. 

“Letters. Old ones,” Ahlis replied eventually before leaned back off of her knees and onto her bottom. “But knowing my bloody luck they’re probably long gone. I can’t find them.”

Krile looked away from Ahlis and scanned the rest of the room for a moment; it wasn’t often she was able to take a peek at how her fellow Scion and the Warrior of Light kept her living quarters, yet that wasn’t what intrigued her. Evidence of where Ahlis had rummaged through shelves and drawers was present, her search being quite the thorough one, and the chest was likely one of the last places she thought to look.

“Oh, they must be somewhere…although judging by the room you’ve made quite an effort in looking.”

“Doubtful. I lost a number of things when we had to leave for Ishgard and the Stones was no longer safe.”

Ah. A potentially touchy subject, even now despite the time that had passed. Krile was curious still yet moreso she was invested now. She touched her chin in thought.

“Well, from what I understand there was a thorough inspection after the whole incident. Tataru had to rearrange a few things around here, or so she told me, and that in itself sounded like a good bit of work. She might have some answers.”

Ahlis let a sigh escape her nose, a brief smile of consideration crossing her face. It was unlikely that her personal letters got mixed in that shuffle, yet at this point they could be anywhere truth be told. She turned to Krile once more and nodded, relenting. Krile smiled and turned back towards the door, ready to head down below again.

“What should I keep an eye out for? Any names, perhaps?” Krile asked when she stopped before leaving entirely.

“They’d be coming from central Coerthas,” Ahlis rose up to her feet, intent on joining on the search. “The Fortemps seal should be a dead give away.”

Krile said nothing further, despite her own rush of new questions that sprung up into her mind, as the both of them left to find Tataru together.


	30. Metamorphosis

The journey back to Rak’tika had not been as fruitful as she had hoped. Her room back in Sitherbow had been overturned, books long since stacks or scattered opened and reopened, but she gleaned nothing new from their pages. Fanow had been less remarkable, which wasn’t surprising, and she doubted she had the time nor the faith that traipsing through ancient Ronka ruins would yield anything.

Taking a temporary respite to gaze out across the shaded expanse of the wood, Y’shtola felt at a loss for the first time since her coming to the First. Back when she struggled to find answers on how she got there in the first place–on top of being exceedingly disapproving of a certain Exarch all the while–she took to the libraries of the Crystarium until the moment when Urianger admitted his own “revelations” of a coming future during his journey through the rift. How much everything had changed since that time at the beginning of their exile from the Source: their mission to return home changing entirely to that of saving it, and to save the Warrior of Light. That aspect had not changed much, only the _matter_ in which she must be saved had.

Yet Y’shtola preferred it back in those days, years prior; it was better to rue one’s fate in solitude than to smash one’s head in like company and still achieve nothing. Besides, there was a remnant of an entire world out there to seek out and maybe then their luck would change.

Until Ahlis’s arrival, that is, and the wheel of fortune did turn after all…but only for the worse. She remembered how unfamiliar her aether, her very being, had become and how much she tried to hide her confusion once the initial shock had passed. It was shameful how it had been allowed to happen, even if the cause and purpose of it all had eventually been made plain in the moments where she and the others were watching Ahlis, their companion and ally and _friend_ , fall apart. 

The anger from it was fleeting, and now it had given way to growing despair. Y’shtola, for all her accomplishments, had no solutions, and that there likely wasn’t one at all. That naturallymade her determination return: she would not abandon the cause, as helpless as it seemed. Even if it meant eventually returning to the rest of the Scions with no fruit to bear. 

For now, though, she needed a moment to recenter herself and focus. It was not over yet, and it wouldn’t be until she had her say in all of this. 


End file.
